Science Fiction Double Feature
by Ben Barrett
Summary: The sequel to WHAT DOES THE FUTURE HOLD. As Stan and Kyle settle into married life, something happens that could ruin everything. Style. Slash. References to RHPS.
1. Introduction

**A Note From Ben: Sorry for my long hiatus. I've been going through some personal problems that have kept me from writing. Hell, I don't even answer my email regularly anymore. However, I am back to work now. All of my current stories will be finished, and this one I intend to update at least once every day or so. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**South Park**_**, or **_**Science Fiction Double Feature**_** from **_**The Rocky Horror Picture Show**_

* * *

**Science Fiction Double Feature**

By Ben Barrett

**Chapter One – Introduction**

_**Michael Rennie was ill the day the earth stood still  
But he told us where we stand  
And Flash Gordon was there in silver underwear  
Claude Raines was the invisible man  
Then something went wrong for Fay Wray and King Kong  
They got caught in a celluloid jam  
Then at a deadly pace it came from outer space  
And this is how the message ran:**_

The cows should have been used to strange things happening to them. For years, they had been the symbol of South Park's affections, which brought them under the radar of some very strange groups. Take for instance the alien visitors who turned quite a few of them inside-out before deciding they were the smartest creatures on the planet. Then there was the time the humans had made a giant effigy of a cow which ultimately led to a mass suicide. Yes, they had seen a lot, but nothing could have prepared them for what was about to happen.

They were all out in the field kept by the human known as "Mr. Denkins". It was about the midnight hour and so quite a few of the cows were sleeping peacefully. A few of them were grazing, of course, because there were always at least two or three of them eating all the time. Suddenly, the peacefulness of the night was split by a blinding white light and a very loud humming sound.

Those not eating were jerked out of their sleep by all the racket. They looked up at the source of the commotion, expecting to see their alien friends again. The strange silver creatures came to visit every now and then, and even brought them interesting presents from time to time. This was not the visitors of legend, however; what they saw was far more sinister.

_**Science Fiction - Double Feature  
Dr. X will build a creature  
See androids fighting Brad and Janet  
Ann Francis stars in Forbidden Planet  
Oh-oh at the late night, double feature, picture show.  
**_

In one swift motion, Denkins jumped from his bed and grabbed his shotgun. Not even bothering to put on his pants, he ran out of the house in his underwear, determined to put an end to whatever was on his land. Even if the intruder hadn't flooded the place with lights far too bright to be legal, he still wouldn't have been able to sleep due to the noise the cows were now making.

"Okay, okay, I'm comin'," he said, angrily stomping toward their field. "Hell, you'd think you was bein' tortured out there!"

Any further protests caught in his throat when he got close enough to the field to see what was actually there. His mouth fell open and he stared out in shock. He had seen some crazy shit in his time, including a giant robot Barbara Streisand and hordes of mutant turkeys, but this was by far the worst. He felt his underpants grow warm as he pissed himself in fear. His gun fell from his hand as his strength began to fail him. It hit the ground and went off, alerting the intruder to his presence.

He felt frozen to the spot as the thing in the field began to make its way toward him. He knew he should run, that he should get away and warn everyone of the danger, but he couldn't; it was as if he was being held there by unseen forces.

_Oh, shit,_ he thought before everything went black.

_**  
I knew Leo G. Carroll was over a barrel  
When Tarantula took to the hills  
And I really got hot when I saw Janet Scott  
Fight a Triffid that spits poison and kills**_

Kenny was doing patrol duty near the outskirts of town when a great flash of light blinded him, causing him to drive his cruiser into a telephone pole. He was immediately impaled by several parts of the engine. As his eyes began to lose focus, he looked around at his situation and swore violently. He hated dying almost as much as he hated not getting laid, and he hated not getting laid a whole fucking lot.

"Fuck," he said weakly, "I didn't even get through the first chapter."

He knew he'd probably be back, but that still didn't make it hurt any less. He wouldn't even get to find out what it was that blinded him like that, which meant that he was going out like a chump. That was indeed a very bitter pill to swallow.

"You…bastards…"

_**  
Dana Andrews said prunes gave him the runes  
And passing them used lots of skills  
But when worlds collide, said George Pal to his bride  
I'm gonna give you some terrible thrills, like a:  
**_

Stan sat on the front porch swing, wrapped up in a blanket with Kyle. He had one arm around his lover, who was sleeping snugly against his side. He looked down at him and a wave of overwhelming affection overtook him. He was damn lucky to have someone he loved so madly who loved him back just as strongly, and he knew it.

_And to think, _Stan mused, _I almost ruined everything._

He thought back over all they'd been through, of how they had spent a good ten years apart because of his insecurities. It was only through a strange sequence of strange events involving angry bears, a mysterious singing cowboy, and the band Kansas that he had ended up in Kyle's arms. He always remembered to be thankful for that, for he knew that it was in the redhead's embrace he belonged, and he never wanted to leave.

Kyle stirred slightly against him, but did not wake. He simply snuggled up closer to Stan and smiled in his sleep. Stan kissed him softly on the top of the head and held him tighter.

_It was that cowboy, _he thought. _If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be holding him. I'd probably be somewhere in Des Moines, miserable as fucking hell._

He often wondered about the mysterious cowboy at times like this. Who was he? Where did he come from? He almost behaved like a ghost or an angel, coming and going as he pleased, disappearing into thin air like he was made of smoke. Of course, the idea that he was angelic was ridiculous, but not as much as some theories Stan had concocted. Some of his more extreme ideas involved alien "visitors", inter-dimensional travel, or the Church of Scientology.

_Somehow I know that's not right, though, _Stan thought peacefully. _He's none of those things; he's just a travelin' man in a cowboy hat._

He probably would have thought of this for a lot longer if it hadn't been for the blinding flash of light that lit up the entire town. Kyle jumped up as though he'd been bitten and looked around, as if the source of such a painfully bright light would be sitting on their front lawn.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked.

"I dunno," Stan replied, looking out over the neighborhood at the people emerging from their homes, just as confused.

The phone in the house began to ring, and they knew without looking at the caller ID that it was one of their mothers, most likely Sheila. This flash seemed to have awakened the whole town, and the motherly instincts of the two women would make them want to check up on their boys. Kyle rolled his eyes and went in to answer it.

Meanwhile, Stan watched as several people started shuffling down the street like zombies, searching in vain for the source of the disturbance, or maybe for someone who might have some answers. Knowing the history of this town, most of them would probably end up panicking while he and Kyle did all the work. God damn it, there were times he hated this town so much.

_**  
Science Fiction - Double Feature  
Dr. X will build a creature  
See androids fighting Brad and Janet  
Ann Francis stars in Forbidden Planet  
Oh-oh at the late night, double feature, picture show.  
I wanna go, oh-oh, to the late night double feature picture show.  
By RKO, oh-oh, at the late night double feature picture show.  
In the back row at the late night double feature picture show.**_


	2. Madness Takes Its Toll

**Chapter Two – Madness Takes Its Toll**

If there's one thing the residents of South Park agreeds on, it was that Officer Barbrady wasn't the brightest bulb in the lamp. Hell, most folks thought calling him a dim bulb would be giving him too much credit; they usually referred to him as "a wet match in a dark cave". However, even a dimwit like Barbrady would have found it impossible to miss the giant black pods that seemed to be growing where Mr. Denkins' cows used to graze.

He had come out to the Denkins place due to the fact that a lot of people were reporting strange noises and lights, not to mention a foul odor that seemed to be coming from not only the pods in the ground, but the house itself. He found the black growth to be curious, and a little disgusting, but he didn't want to jump to any conclusions. After all, they could just be some new breed of watermelon or something.

He knocked on the front door and fingered his badge absentmindedly, thinking of how he sure wanted some Jalapeno poppers. The door opened after a minute and Denkins stood there, gazing blankly at him. Barbrady couldn't put his finger on it, but there seemed to be something different about him.

"Hello, Mr. Denkins," Barbrady said. "We got some reports of some strange activity in the area recently. Have you noticed anything unusual?"

"Un-oozooal?" the rancher replied, scratching his chin thoughtfully with his left tentacle. "Can't say have I. I open my eye for it, yes? Anything un-oozooal I verbal confirm to you, dak chung?"

"Uuh, yeah," Barbrady replied. "You be sure to do that. Oh, and you might want to get some rest; you sound a little under the weather."

He walked back to his car, thinking that people in South Park sure could be paranoid. Sure Denkins was growing some new kind of plant, but there was no crime in that, unless it was cocaine, and that stuff didn't grow in big, black pods. No, it was probably just some kids playing a joke on him, which he didn't deserve. After all, he was a highly intelligent and deeply loved officer of the law. If the damn kids couldn't respect that, then what the hell was the world coming to?

* * *

Stan was becoming more and more uneasy with every passing day. It seemed like more and more people had been behaving like lunatics since the big flash of light two days before. They were buying things like fertilizer, eggs, and buttermilk in mass quantities while leaving things like meat, vegetables, grains, and canned goods sitting untouched in the supermarket; they wandered the streets at night, digging through trash cans and rubbish bins for wire and old cardboard; they refused to drink anything but water mixed with pepper corns.

The erratic behavior of the townsfolk as well as the appearance of strange black pods in several backyards should have been a big red flag to anyone with the power to put a stop to it or at least investigate it, but it was all completely ignored by what Mayor McDaniels referred to as "the greatest scientific minds in the county". They came to the startling and oh so brilliant conclusion that the strange flash from the sky was nothing more than a really bright light. This, of course, caused Stan and Kyle to pinch their noses in unison, both equally disgusted by such stupidity.

"We have to do _something, _Ky," Stan said as they lay in bed on the third night. They had just finished making love and were following their usual after-sex ritual of having a three hour discussion about whatever was bothering them.

"What can we do, Stan?" Kyle replied, looking over at him. "Our hands are tied. Unless we can come up with proof more concrete than the groceries people buy or a few trash pickers and black pods, we can't act. If we do something drastic, they'll probably put us in jail, and then what'll we do when things _really _get out of hand?"

Stan snuggled closer to Kyle and put his arms around him. He knew that something dreadful was going to happen sooner or later. Nothing safe ever came out of supernatural events in South Park, and the two of them were usually right in the middle of it.

"I just don't want anything to ruin what we have," he said, looking deeply into his husband's eyes. "Everything seems so perfect, and when that happens, you know that the forces that control this universe usually step in. It's pretty much against the laws of Creation for anything to be this wonderful."

Kyle nodded in understanding. He knew exactly what Stan was saying. It seemed like every time things were as good as they could ever be, something happened to lessen it. He remembered being so incredibly happy on his thirteenth birthday, despite having to stand up in the synagogue and read Hebrew; he was officially considered a man by the Jewish people, five years before anyone he knew; he had a great and promising future ahead of him; and best of all, Eric Theodore Cartman had moved to Greeley and was out of his hair forever. It had been shaping up to be the best day of his life, until the phone call came.

_"Bubbee," his mother said, pulling him aside, "I have some bad news for you."_

_"What is it mom?"_

_Honestly, he had been rather relieved that she had pulled him aside. Some girl named Janet something-or-other had been hassling him all day. She was obviously interested, but as usual Kyle wasn't. He found her to be obnoxious and rather ugly. Her nose was exceptionally big, even by Jewish standards, and her hair was frizzy and uncombed. She had just tried backing him into a corner to get a kiss from him when his mother stepped in, telling him they needed to talk._

_"Kyle," she said, taking a deep breath, "I don't know how to tell you this….maybe you should sit down."_

_He shrugged and went to a nearby table, where he folded his hands in front of him and waited patiently for his mother to sit down and continue. As she was rather large, it took her a little longer to get settled into a chair. When she finally did, Kyle noticed there were tears in her eyes._

_"Mom, what's going on?" he asked, now greatly concerned._

_"It's your cousin, Kyle Schwartz," she responded, now weeping softly and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "He…he had an accident. You know how fragile he was, and well….I'm sorry, Kyle. Your cousin is dead."_

_Little by little, he probed her and got the full story. His cousin had fallen off a boat in deep water. He didn't know how to swim or even keep himself above the surface. By the time people jumped in after him, he had already sank so far down, there was no hope of rescuing him in time. He was surprised to find this actually upset him, seeing as he and his cousin had never really been all that close. Maybe it was because he was as soft-hearted as people always said, or maybe it was because it had happened on such an otherwise great day (Janet aside). _

_Regardless, he jumped from the table and ran off to hide himself behind the bushes. It was there that he was eventually discovered by Janet, who thought she was doing a good thing by coming to comfort him. The truth of the matter was that he'd had all he could stand of her._

"_Damn it, Janet!" he screamed, rising and storming away. "Leave me the _fuck _alone!"_

Kyle shook this off and brought his focus back to his husband, who was looking at him with a little concern. Jesus, how long had he been laying there thinking about his dead cousin? Probably longer than he should have, that's for sure. He gave Stan a reassuring smile to let him know everything was okay and rose from the bed. No matter how much he'd like to stay there in his lover's embrace all night, he had to piss like a fucking racehorse.

* * *

A strange figure in a large cloak moved silently through the dark streets. Such madness had overtaken the quiet little town since he'd been away, but he had assumed that the two he had been monitoring would take care of the situation; he had been wrong. There must surely be a reason for this, for the two had always stepped up to the task before without hesitation. For them to sit idly by and watch this disease overtake South Park made absolutely no sense.

"Why do you do nothing?" he hissed into the night. "Have you become so careless in your married life?"

He reached their house and stopped. He looked up at it expectantly, as though staring at their dark windows would change something.

"I should intervene _now_," he said, "but I will not. I give you two more days to act, then I will have no choice. I sincerely hope that I am wrong about you, and that you will not let me down. South Park needs you to defend her."

With that, he turned on his heel and was swallowed up by the darkness again.


	3. The Guardians

**A Note From Ben: From this point on, this story is written in collaboration with Phoenix II. He has been a very big help and continues to be. He has also agreed to do some writing on this project, possibly on this story or the future installments (there will be four). Be sure to give him the credit he deserves, folks:)  
**

* * *

**Chapter Three – The Guardians**

Two days came and went, and things got stranger than they'd ever been. The people in South Park became more and more reclusive, choosing to spend most of their time indoors and speaking very little when they came out. When they did choose to speak, their sentences were usually so garbled and out of order that Yoda would have had trouble understanding them.

The only thing worse than their behavior and the way they talked was their personal appearances. A lot of them wore the same clothes day in and day out, never bathed as far as Stan or Kyle could tell, and smelled a lot like dead animal mixed with old cabbage. They usually had to hold hankies over their faces when they went out to keep from gagging.

"I can't take anymore, Stan," Kyle said finally. "We _have _to do something!"

When he didn't get an answer, he looked irritably over at his husband, who was staring intently at something on his computer screen.

"Stan!" he cried, walking over and thumping him on the back of the head. "You're not even listening to me!"

"Sorry, Kyle," Stan finally replied, "I've been doing some research on this mysterious cowboy figure. Did you know there have been sightings of this guy as early as 1947?"

Kyle was furious. The world was being taken over by some kind of alien scourge, and all his partner could think about was some guy that had helped them years before who, incidentally, hadn't shown himself to them since.

"Stan, would you forget about the cowboy for one god damn second?" he snapped. "We have more important things to worry about right now. If you haven't forgotten, things are getting out of hand around here and nobody's doing _anything_!"

"I'm not sure what we can do."

"Well, we can sure do more than sit around and talk about strange guys who pop in and out of the lives of other people like fucking ghosts. We need to be out there trying to figure out what's going on. I could have sworn I saw people with _tentacles, _Stan."

Stan finally turned away from the computer screen and looked at his husband with a sigh. He had known this was coming, because it _always _seemed to be the two of them saving this pathetic little town. It was inevitable that they'd get sucked into a situation that he wanted desperately to avoid.

"Fine," he said, "any suggestions?"

"I have one," a voice said from the front door. They looked over and saw a man standing there in a cowboy hat, plaid shirt, and faded blue jeans.

"Well, I'll be damned," Kyle said.

"Only if you continue to sit around and wait for someone else to do the work," the cowboy said. "Why have you waited so long? Why haven't you _acted_?"

Stan and Kyle looked at each other, flabbergasted. They usually locked the doors and windows these days, even when they were at home. Yet this man had gotten into their house without making the slightest sound and was now lecturing them on why _they _hadn't tried to save the town.

"Look, buddy," Kyle growled, "We really appreciate everything you've done for us, but you can't just barge in here and…"

"Oh, I think I can," the cowboy said, shooting him an angry look. "You've been placed here for a very specific purpose. You are supposed to be the Guardians of South Park. It's your duty to keep things like this from happening."

"Hold on a minute," Stan said, leaning back in his computer chair and massaging his temples. "Do you have any idea how bizarre that sounds? I mean, 'The Guardians of South Park'?"

"Need I remind you of all you've done for this town? The zombies, mutant turkeys, giant robots, crab people, the American-Canadian war; all of that and so much more was stopped because of the two of you. You've always been the ones who kept this pathetic little place from becoming a smoldering crater."

"How do you know all of that?" Kyle asked.

"Let's just say," the cowboy replied with a slight smirk, "that I'm a lot closer to the two of you than you might think."

* * *

The mysterious stranger explained everything to Stan and Kyle over the next two hours. The first thing he told them was that the Forces That Be had predestined them to be together in South Park, for the place itself was located upon what could only be described as a "soft spot" in the universe. These places were the most delicate locations in all of space and time, and were therefore targeted by dark forces constantly because of it.

"Think of it like the top of a newborn baby's head," he explained. "What happens if something happens to that soft spot?"

"Well," Stan answered, "the baby could be seriously damaged for life or could even die."

"Exactly," the stranger said, "and that's why so many strange things happen in South Park all the time. The fabric of the universe is especially weak here, and those who would exploit such a weakness are attempting to set up a stronghold. Once they do that, they can easily tear through this 'soft spot' at their leisure. You two are the only ones keeping that from happening. All the other people in town are too naïve or too stupid to help."

"But why would they want to tear a hole in the universe?" Kyle asked. "If they did that, wouldn't it kill them like it would kill everyone else?"

"Those who would seek to do such a perverse thing have usually been given promises of eternal life and glory," came the reply, "but it is, of course, a lie. The creatures who promise such things are know as Shadows, and they are the worst kind of evil. They seek to destroy all that is good and right and plunge everything into chaos. The problem is, they are not beings that can physically do anything on their own, so they must get goons made of flesh and blood to do their dirty work for them."

"Yeah," Kyle said, smiling at Stan, "like Cartman."

They both laughed merrily at this joke, but their mirth ended abruptly when they saw the look of rage on the face of the normally friendly cowboy. His facial features were turned into a furious scowl and his eyes had turned pure white. He also seemed to be getting taller by the second, until his head hit the ceiling and he loomed angrily over the boys.

"Holy shit, dude," Stan said, looking up at him.

"This is not the time to make jokes!" he bellowed like some thunder god, causing the windows to rattle. "There is nothing funny about any of this! Right now, these things you've so ignorantly ignored in favor of your bedroom games are plotting to dispose of you."

"Okay, okay, jeez," Kyle said, "we'll take care of it. Just come back down to a reasonable size."

The being's face seemed to soften at this and within the blink of an eye he had reduced himself to his normal size. The boys breathed a sigh of relief at this and looked at each other. Without speaking, they realized they had both picked up on the same thing: there was something about this guy that was striking a familiar chord in both of them.

"Say," Kyle queried, "do you have a name, or are we just gonna have to keep calling you 'That Cowboy'?"

"Yeah," Stan added, "and how come you know so much about these Shadow things?"

He looked at them with a smile before moving toward the door. He threw it open simply by motioning at it and beckoned for them to follow.

"You can call me Cedric," he said, "and I know about Shadows because I am one of The Sent."

This statement raised more questions than it answered, but Cedric refused to say anything more. He chose instead to walk on in complete silence toward the outskirts of town.

* * *

The Beings were apprehensive. That meddler Cedric had roused the only two people who could possibly threaten their plans, and their commanding officer was _not _going to be happy about it. In fact, when the Grand One found out that the two earthlings known as Brovlofski and Marsh were coming toward their base of operations instead of lying dead in some gutter, he would more than likely kill several of them.

"Shall I send out some of the podfolk?" one of them asked the second-in-command.

"Nay," he said. "We may still be able to rectify this situation."

"How is that, sir?"

"Tell me, lackey," the comander replied, "what's the best way to rid yourself of a pest problem?"

The Being thought hard about this. Knowing the ways of those higher in rank, this would surely be a trick question. Was it perhaps a riddle or the opening of a parable? He didn't know what to say; giving the wrong answer would more than likely get him killed, yet taking too long to answer could result in the exact same thing

"By...killing it, sir?" he finally answered unsurely.

"No, idiot," the second-in-command bellowed, kicking him and sending him crashing into a computer station, where he was instantly fried. He then turned and addressed all those within earshot. "Listen closely to me, all of you. The best way to rid yourself of a pest problem is to not have one at all."

None of the Beings understood this statement, but didn't dare express this. Their confusion didn't last long, however, for three seconds later the commanding officer touched a button on a float screen and a complete diagram of his plan filled the room. They couldn't help but smile at it's brilliance; it was perfect.

"Soon those that The Sent call 'The Guardians' will no longer be a threat to us or anyone else," he said, causing everyone to cheer loudly.


	4. Time Warp

**Chapter Four – Time Warp**

Stan, Kyle, and Cedric walked through the late afternoon sunlight, headed toward the Denkins ranch. Cedric informed them that it was there that all the trouble started. The ones responsible for the insanity that had gripped the town would be there, more than likely waiting for them.

"Whatever you do," Cedric warned, "do not accept anything they offer you. These Beings often try to trick their enemies with offers of redemption or great wealth, but they always have an ulterior motive. Nothing good ever comes from accepting help from monsters like _them_."

The boys looked at each other. Cedric seemed to have a great deal of bitterness toward these creatures. Kyle wondered just how much experience the cowboy had had with them; had they hurt him in the past? If so, what kind of unimaginable horrors were they capable of if they could hurt one as powerful as Cedric?

"Do not think of me as powerful, Kyle," he said, reading the Jew's thoughts. "I am but a servant of a greater good."

"Please don't do that," Kyle responded. "Stay out of my head."

Cedric almost looked hurt at the unfriendliness of the other's words, but composed himself quickly. He stopped suddenly in the middle of the street and looked around as though they were being followed.

"What is it?" Stan asked.

The man didn't answer right away. He simply closed his eyes and raised his clenched fists toward the heavens, as though doing so could help him to pick up on some supernatural radio station. He stayed like that for several minutes before he turned swiftly to Stan. There was an intensity burning there in his eyes like Stan had never seen and it frightened him a little.

"Are you---", he started to say, backing up a few steps.

"I must go," Cedric interrupted. "I will be back as soon as I can. Until then, do your best without me. Do not let your guard down for one second. Trust no one. Accept _nothing_!"

With that, he vanished as though he had never been there in the first place. Stan grunted in frustration, then looked to Kyle expectantly, as if his husband would just automatically know what they were supposed to do. Kyle resented such an assumption; just because he was a Jew everyone thought he had all the answers. Well, he was a Jew, not a rabbi, and he rarely had anything more than common sense to go on.

_If people would use more of that,_ he thought bitterly, _maybe they wouldn't need Stan and I to save their asses so fucking much._

"Well, I don't suppose it would do much good for us to go back now," Stan said.

Kyle nodded in agreement and they marched forward again, putting the erratic behavior of their new companion out of their minds. If their previous experience with him told them anything, it was that he'd be back eventually; hopefully, it was before the Beings made them both dead.

As they strolled peacefully through their old neighborhood, Stan smiled over at Kyle and took his hand. Kyle smiled back and squeezed it affectionately. They knew that their marriage wasn't perfect, and that they had problems from time to time, but they were so happy together that it made easier to forget about all of that and just love each other. Of course, Kyle had told him when they got together that if he ever got stupid and decided to try and "fix things" on his own again like he did in that Iowa fiasco, he'd find himself single and looking for an apartment before he could think "divorce". Kyle had had quite enough of his husband's attempts to "make things right" to last a life time.

Stan pulled his lover in for a passionate kiss, right there in the middle of the street where they used to play hockey. They locked lips for a brief minute, each savoring the taste and the feel of the other. It was such a euphoric feeling for both of them that they always lingered longer than was necessary, simply because they didn't want the moment to end. Even when it did, Stan would often pull away just enough to look longingly into his lover's deep green eyes, which complimented so well the cute little freckles he had on the bridge of his nose.

"I love you, Kyle," he said, pulling away just that far.

"I love you, too, Stan," Kyle replied.

They drew in for another kiss, but before they could make contact, they heard someone shuffle up behind them. They turned to look and saw Ike, Kyle's 16-year old adopted brother. He had a look in his beady eyes like he was deeply troubled and afraid. Kyle picked up on this right away and turned from Stan to comfort his sibling.

"Ike!" he cried, placing a hand on the young Canadian's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"No," Ike said flatly, rudely slapping the hand away. "I'm not okay."

Kyle turned his head to give Stan a What-The-Fuck look, so he didn't see the brief flash of yellowish-red light that illuminated Ike's eyes. Stan, however, was staring directly in the boy's direction, so he picked up on it quite easily.

"Dude," Stan said, "there is something _seriously _wrong with your brother."

His husband looked offended by this. Not only was Stan insulting his family, he was suggesting that his brother was messed up in the head or something? Oh, there'd be no sex for him for a week.

"We've been over this," Kyle explained as patiently as he could. "He's Canadian. He's gonna be a little strange. Don't insult members of my family!"

"B-but..." Stan stuttered, "but it...was..."

Kyle waved an impatient hand at him while still focusing on his precious brother. This pissed Stan off more than anything. Never since they had been married had Kyle ever _once _waved him away, as though he were some kind of obnoxious child or servant. He decided he'd bite his tongue for now, however; saying too much at this point could result in no sex for a month. Since he was pretty sure he'd be romancing his right hand for at least a week already, he didn't want to press his luck.

"Tell me what's wrong, Ike," Kyle prodded, staring into the cold, lifeless eyes of what _looked _like the younger Brovlofski boy.

"It's mom and dad," the Canadian replied in a monotone voice. "They're different now. I'm really worried about them, Kyle."

Stan didn't buy it for a second; Ike sounded more like Ben Stein than a kid worried about his parents. Still, he could see Kyle falling for it hook, line, and sinker, and he had to make a choice. Should he speak up and voice his concerns, with the result being no sex again _ever_, or should he keep his mouth shut?

"Kyle," he said, opting to think of his husband instead of himself, "I'm sorry but there's something seriously wrong, I'm telling you."

"Stan," Kyle growled menacingly, turning his head to give him a scowl.

"No, Kyle!" the other barked back. "It's not just that he's Canadian. There's something wrong with his eyes."

Kyle looked at his brother, who just shrugged and scuffed his sneaker uncomfortably against the ground.

"All Canadians have beady eyes, Stan," he said without looking back. "Now please stop--"

"NO!" Stan bellowed, causing his husband to jump in surprise. "It wasn't just the beadiness. They were fucking _glowing_, you hear me? Glowing!!"

Kyle opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the sound of his brother speaking in the same flat monotone.

"Why do you hate me, Stan?" he asked. "You've always hated my bond with Kyle and have always tried to come between us."

"Piss off, Canuck!"

"Stan! That's enough!" Kyle shouted at him. "My brother says there's something wrong with my parents, and I'm going to see what's up. If you can't respect my family, you don't have to come."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away with Ike. The Canadian gave Stan one last calculating look over his shoulder. His eyes flashed that strange color again, as if challenging him to do something about it. Stan cursed and followed moodily behind them, knowing that something about the situation stank like bad eggs. Still, if something was going to happen, he wanted to be there to protect his husband.

* * *

They arrived at the Brovlofski residence within minutes. There were several things about the place that set off warning bells in Stan's head, the biggest being the black pods in the front yard. If that wasn't enough, the stench of the place was almost unbearable. He knew before they ever got to the door that they were probably walking right into a trap, but telling Kyle would do no good, so he had to walk willingly into it, hoping for the best.

"Mom! Dad!" Kyle cried as he walked into the dark and dirty house. He ran through the living room, the kitchen, and through the entire upstairs searching for them. It was for this reason that he didn't see Ike deadbolt the door behind them. When he finally returned to the thing resembling his brother, he had a look of confusion on his face. "Ike, where are they?"

"Kyle, that isn't Ike," Stan said.

"Of course it is, Stan. Wha..."

"He's right, Kyle," the fake Ike said, his voice becoming a deep baritone. "I'm not Ike, and your parents are beyond helping."

Kyle looked over at Stan with a guilty look as if to say "Sorry I got us into this". Stan replied with a shrug of the shoulders and a "Shit happens" expression.

"What do you want with us?" Stan asked. "If you were gonna kill us, you could have done it in the street."

"Smart man," the Being possessing Ike responded with a smirk. "No, my intention wasn't to kill you, but to make you an offer."

"Forget it!" Kyle spat. "We're not taking anything from you."

"But what if I told you that you could correct all the mistakes of your past?" the Being countered. "I have no doubt that fool Cedric has been filling your head will all kinds of warnings against accepting anything from us. That's the type of hate speech I've come to expect from The Sent. However, I could send you back in time and let you fix what you both know is your biggest mistake."

"The day we separated for ten years," Stan said, staring intently ahead.

"Yes," the Ike-thing replied. "You could undo that. Think of all the years you'd have together if you went back and kept that from happening."

"What's the catch?" Stan asked.

"Stan!" Kyle cried, horrified. "You can't seriously be considering this, can you?"

"I'm considering it, yeah."

"No! Please, no! Our history...it's fine the way it is. Sure, we had our share of problems, but we ended up together in the end."

"Come on, Kyle," the Ike Being cooed. "Surely there's something in _your _past you want to fix? Wouldn't you like to have those ten years back that you lost? Wouldn't it be great if you'd spent that decade in Stan's arms instead of by yourself?"

"I want it," Stan said, "but what's the catch?"

"There is no catch," the Being told him. "It's very simple how this works. We want the both of you out of our hair. You want those ten years back. If you go back in time and fix your error, we estimate that there's only a 3 chance you'd actually still be living in this town today. You win, we win, you see?"

Stan stepped forward, holding out his hand for a shake.

"Deal," he said. "Do it."

"Stan!" Kyle moaned. "No!"

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were standing in the basement of the house, where a large futuristic platform straight out of Star Trek had been erected. Kyle was refusing to speak to Stan, but it didn't deter him at all. Stan was still determined to take the offer and fix the past no matter the cost.

"All you have to do, Stan," the Being explained, "is step up onto the platform. I'll hit a few buttons and you'll instantaneously find yourself on this spot in the past. I warn you, though, there is no coming back on your own. Once an hour passes, you'll find yourself back in the present day, regardless of what changes you've managed to make."

"I understand."

"Is there anything you wish to say to your husband before you go?"

"I...I love you, Kyle," Stan said, looking sadly at his husband.

"You're breaking your promise to me," the Jew responded coldly. "You told me that you would stay with me forever, that you wouldn't try to 'fix' things anymore. You remember that? It was right after I came after your stupid ass when you tried to run off to Iowa. You _promised _me that was the last time. I guess I don't mean as much to you as your own fucking pride, do I?"

With that, the red-haired love of Stan's life turned and walked up the stairs. After a moment, the Ike-thing motioned that they should get on with it.

"Okay, I'm ready," Stan said.

The Being hit a button and Stan vanished in an explosion of light.


	5. Eyes Don't Lie

**A Note From Ben: Wow. How long since I updated this? It seems like forever, doesn't it? Well, the good news is that this story will be completed. I know I scrapped it for awhile, but I can't just leave it half-formed like that. It needs an ending. So, I hope you all will join me as we continue down this path that very nearly lead to nowhere.****

* * *

Chapter Five - The Eyes Don't Lie**

Stan appeared in the basement, in the exact spot he'd vanished from. For a moment, in his disoriented state, it seemed to him like he hadn't left at all, that the machine had failed. Then his head cleared and he realized that it wasn't the same at all. The platform that he had climbed onto to make the journey was no longer there, nor was the Ike-thing.

_I've gone back to that day fifteen years ago._

He tore up the stairs and out the basement door. He immediately found himself face-to-face with Sheila, who looked at him for a shocked second before screaming and going after him with her spatula.

"Mrs. Brovlofski! It's me!" he cried, using his arms to defend himself against her attack.

"I don't know you, you snooping pervert!" she bellowed, accentuating every syllable of 'snooping pervert' with a swing of the spatula.

He ran from the house, her cries of rage sounding behind him. He knew that she would be calling the police and anyone else she could think of to bring him down. Nobody crossed Sheila Brovlofski and got away with it. He would have to work even faster now and keep his head low. If he got thrown into jail, it would ruin the entire mission. Sure, he'd only be in there until his time in the past ran out, but it would still keep him from reaching his past self.

He ran down the sidewalk and saw the house he grew up in come into view. He knew that eight-year old Stan and his friends were in there at that very minute. The problem was getting to them without drawing more attention to himself. Had his mother been home the day he and Kyle...err, today? His memory told him that she wasn't, but it was a hazy answer. After so many years, details like that tended to fade out. Honestly, was it much different than trying to remember what he'd had for breakfast that day?

_Okay, so I have a choice to make. I can take a chance and trust hazy memories that are over fifteen years old, or I can scope out the place._

That was stupid, of course. He didn't have time to wait and see who came out. He had an hour, that was all, and every minute that he stood out here debating whether he should do something was one minute he didn't have to fix things, and it was one minute closer to whatever angry mob Sheila had assembled coming down the street and catching him.

_Think, Stan, think!_

He thought back on what had happened. He and Kyle had gone out into the back yard at first, hadn't they? Yes, he remembered that they had. He had a gut feeling that if he was going to change anything, it would be at that moment. Wasting no more time, he ran and vaulted over the fence, landing hard on his ankle. An intense pain shot up his leg and he collapsed to the ground, trying his hardest not to moan and give away his presence.

_Fuck, I think I sprained it._

The pain was agonizing. He felt like he was going to lose his mind if he didn't do something with it soon. Still, it would have to wait until he got back to his own time. For now, he'd have to try to ignore it and conceal himself. He began to crawl across the lawn toward some nearby bushes, but the pain of dragging his ankle was completely unbearable. He thought briefly that it would feel less painful to have someone hacking at his ankle bone with a rusty butterknife.

"Fuck!" he cried, feeling himself tear up from the pain.

Well, at least he was concealed in this nook where the fence turned before it ran into the house. If he remained here, anyone who came out--like his past self--wouldn't see him unless they turned around. That meant that there was still a good chance he could spy on...himself...without being noticed by...himself. Trying to make sense of that only made him feel like he was going cross-eyed.

_Never mind. The point is, I'm here. I can fix things._

He pulled himself up close to the side of the house, the pain hitting him so hard he actually felt a wave of nausea pass through him. He bit down on his fist and ordered his body to fight against it. Soon enough, the feeling passed and he breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he needed to do was throw up all over the past. God, what would that do to the future? Would it change things negatively? He had always heard that the smallest changes in the past made the biggest impact on the future.

Minutes passed, and Stan knew his time was running out. He couldn't just sit here in pain and wait forever! He needed to take action as quickly as possible. He was just about to make a racket loud enough to draw his young self out of the house when he heard the sliding glass door open. Someone stomped out and banged it shut angrily. A few seconds later, he saw eight-year old Stan storm angrily across the deck and sit down on the grass by himself.

_That's me! God, I was a runt!_

He thought back on this day. What happened next? There was...a couple of minutes where he would sit there alone, and then Kyle would come out. That meant he had to get his...own...attention somehow without tipping off the others.

"Psst!" he hissed. "Psst! Stan!"

No response.

"Stan!" a little louder this time.

No response.

He picked up a nearby rock and bounced it in his hand a couple of times, getting a feel for it. He gave it a fling, praying as he did that he wouldn't hit his younger self hard enough to do any serious damage. The last thing he needed to do was go back to the future completely retarded because he'd hit...himself...with a rock. It flew across the yard and hit his younger self hard in the shoulder.

"Ouch!" young Stan cried, whirling around angrily. He saw future Stan sitting by the side of the house, beckoning madly at him, but of course he didn't recognize him for who he was. To eight-year old Stan, his adult self just looked like a creepy guy sitting in the back yard, trying to get him to come over and talk. Words like _predator_ and _molestation_ flashed brightly in his mind like warning signs.

"Stan!" adult Stan called. "Come over here."

"No," kid Stan replied, "I won't be doing that. You'd better get out of here before the cops show up."

"Stan, listen!"

"Hey," kid Stan said, "I'll bet you're that nut that Kyle's mom called and warned us about. What were you doing hiding out in Kyle's basement? Are you a bum or something?"

"No!" adult Stan hissed, grinding his teeth. Had he really been that much of a smart ass as a child? "Listen, I'm not a bum and I'm not a predator. I'm...I'm _you_ from the future."

"Oh," young Stan replied, "we're back to this again."

"Huh?"

"You're from Motivation Corp, right?" little Stan sneered. "I thought my parents had learned a few things about respect, but I was wrong."

Adult Stan had to think for a minute about what the hell his younger self was talking about, but it came to him. His parents had once tried to trick him into staying away from drugs and alcohol by hiring an actor from a company called Motivation Corp. The man had come to their house during a staged electrical storm and put on quite a show, with his parents playing right along, establishing himself as Stan from the future. That taken into consideration, the _real_ future Stan could see how this looked to his younger self.

"You've got it all wrong," he cried. "I'm not from Motivation Corp. I'm from fifteen years in the future."

"Bullshit. I'm going to call the cops."

Young Stan walked back across the deck. He had to be stopped. If he got inside before adult Stan managed to really talk to him, the whole mission would fall apart. There's no way the boy would come out here again before the police came to take him away.

"I know you're in love with Kyle!" he blurted out.

It worked. Young Stan stopped and looked over at him, and his eyes were as wide as saucers.

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"I know everything about you, Stan," he replied, and was pleased to see that his younger self was walking slowly toward him. "I know your deep dark secrets. Miss Claridge is only the way she is because you and your friends started that fire in preschool. You and Kyle showered together when you were taking care of that egg. You sometimes lay awake at night and..."

"Okay, okay," kid Stan said, holding up his hands. "I...I get it. I believe you. Why are you here?"

"I..."

The sliding glass door opened again and someone came out into the back yard calling Stan's name.

"Kyle," both Stans said at the same time.

Kyle turned and looked at them. At first sight of adult Stan, his eyes narrowed in distrust. He didn't like the idea of a strange man laying in the back yard holding conversations with them, especially after his mother's phone call. That was the stuff child abuse cases were made of.

"Stan, why are you with that man?" he asked.

The Stans looked at each other. They both knew how hot-headed and stubborn Kyle could be at times, and didn't have to be told that convincing him of what was going on was going to be quite a challenge.

"I really don't think you'd believe me if I told you," young Stan replied to his friend's question.

"Try me, Stan."

So young Stan began to explain how he had come out to find his future self propped up against the side of the house, and how he had told him things he'd never told anyone. Adult Stan chipped in by giving a brief history of what was going on in the future, and how he had ended up fifteen years in the past.

"You're right, Stan," Kyle replied when they finished, "I _don't_ believe that."

"Kyle," young Stan said, "remember all the stuff he told me..."

"Yeah," Kyle replied shortly, "I heard you the first time, but you're forgetting that we've seen this hoax before."

"No, I'm not," kid Stan muttered, glaring at his friend.

"Kyle," future Stan said softly, "this is not a trick. If I were hired by Motivation Corp, I would know Stan's secrets, sure, but I wouldn't know any of the stuff I know about you."

"Like what?"

"Like that scar you have in your pelvic area, caused by a safety pin accident when you were a baby. It's right by your...well, it's close to something that you don't normally show off to the public."

Kyle was shocked. Nobody--NOBODY--knew about the scar by his boyhood. He doubted that even his mother remembered it. How had this man come by such knowlege? He wasn't sure he liked grown men knowing details about his private area.

"Tell me how you know that."

"We're married in the future, Kyle."

"Oh, come on...!"

"I believe him!" young Stan shouted over him.

Kyle looked betrayed. His best friend was taking a crazy stranger's side over his?

"How could you take this crap seriously?"

Adult Stan looked at his watch. His time was almost up. In another five minutes, he would be transported back to his own time. He didn't have time to play this silly game with the eight-year old version of his future husband! They needed to get past this, and quickly.

"Kyle," adult Stan, "look into Stan's eyes. One thing you always told me after we got together was that I have the most beautiful and unique eyes you've ever seen. Once you've finished looking into his eyes, look into mine. If I'm bullshitting you, they won't be the same."

Kyle blushed, though he was a lot closer to being convinced after this. He had thought often on the beauty and uniqueness of his friend's blue eyes. He often felt that Stan could get him to do just about anything by simply matching his gaze. He'd get one glimpse of those radiant pools and he'd melt like hot butter.

_I never told anyone about my obsession over Stan's eyes. How could this guy..._

He shook this off and walked over to kid Stan. Their gazes locked and he felt his stomach begin to flutter. Oh, they were so perfect! Had such a dazzling set ever been created before? Surely not.

_Butter. I'm butter, melted butter._

"Okay, Kyle," adult Stan said, pointing at his own eyes, "now look here."

Kyle did so reluctantly, sure they would be dull, bloodshot, and crusted over with dirt and crud. When he saw the exact same blue orbs looking at him, it took his breath away. They were the same! There was no way it was possible for this to happen...unless...

"Stan," Kyle admitted with a smile. "You're really Stan."

"Yes, Kyle," adult Stan said, returning the smile, "I am."


End file.
